


That's the Game

by SmutShare



Category: Original - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4416944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutShare/pseuds/SmutShare





	That's the Game

The floors ding by on the elevator, my stomach dropping as each one lights up; seven, eight, nine…With one last ding the doors slide open. Clinging to the rail that runs along the back wall of the lift, I’m not sure my legs will move. Or, even if they do, I think the rush of blood from my head will cause me to faint. 

Slowly the doors begin to close and some latent force propels me forward. Jabbing the button, I halt their enclosure, and the doors slide apart again. Taking a deep breath and mustering every ounce of will that I have, I force my legs to move forward, to carry me out into the hallway. The blood is pounding in my ears and nearly every sense in my body urges me to turn around, to get back on that damn lift, and take myself home. My brain revolts that I should be following the routine of a normal day; bid my assistant goodnight, leave the teeming university in my wake, hoping the TAs don't burn the place down over night, with the full knowledge that the same mountain of paperwork and files will be on my desk in the morning. I should carry myself home, prepare a light dinner, and retire to the study to comb through the administrative paperwork I always bring home. There just aren’t enough hours in the day.

But, there are other urges that set my feet moving down the hallway, primal urges that haven’t been satisfied in too long. A man in my position would have done this long ago. Hell, the last chancellor had a mistress on his staff. I will never be that flippant, I learned long ago to not mix business with pleasure. What’s that stupid saying…”don’t get your meat at the same place you get your bread and butter.” It’s a recipe for disaster. 

But, this? Standing in front of the door I question myself for the thousandth time since I made the call yesterday. Discretion, privacy, anonymity; this is me, right? No nasty entanglements, no expectations, no promises unfulfilled. I can do this. I repeat to myself, ‘You can do this.’ My hand rises to rap on the solid wooden door, as my stomach falls to my feet. ‘What the hell am I doing?’

Before my brain kicks into gear and I can turn around to flee, the door swings slowly open.

***

“What do you want?”

“Excuse me?”

“What kind of girl? Blonde, brunette, red? Tall, short? Thick, thin? What are you looking for?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. Believe me…it always matters.”

“Fine, I want intelligent, smart, articulate. I want someone who knows what they want. Someone who’s not scared, or shy, or …stupid. Strong and determined, and honest.” I scoffed. “Do you have anyone like that.”

“Actually, we do…My assistant will call you tomorrow with the arrangements. Thank you, Dr. Hahn.”

***

And there she stands, intelligence and guile beaming out of her green eyes. “Dr. Hahn? I’ve been waiting for you.” A smirk plays at her lips; I know she’s able to read my lateness for what it is…sheer terror. She steps aside, extending her hand and inviting me into the room.

I glance around cautiously before I enter and slowly step forward, looking to my left and right, assuring myself I’m not walking into a trap. Glancing to the tall redhead, she smiles at me and seems to read every thought I normally hide so well. “We can leave the door propped open, for a bit. If it would make you more comfortable.”

Comfort is exactly what I need at this moment, but I’m so far out of my comfort zone that one door ajar is not going to soothe anything. Silently I shake my head and set my bag down on the table by the door. Unsure of what to do, I reach into the bag and pull out my wallet. Her delicate hand lights on my shoulder, a slender palm waving in front of me. “No, no…they’ve already taken care of everything when you called. If there are any…extra charges, I’ll just tell them tomorrow.”

Dropping the wallet back into my bag, I sigh heavily, this is a million times harder than I thought it would ever be. She motions towards the bed and offers me a warm smile. “Let’s sit shall we?”

Nodding slightly, I move towards the bed and perch on the end. She takes a seat beside me and crosses her long, shapely legs. Her black dress rides high on her thighs and her pale, slender hands rest one on top the other on her thigh. “I’m Shelia. Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself properly.”

It’s almost comical, the thoughts that run through my head at the most inopportune times. But, they come forth, no matter what. “How do you keep up with your name and…your other name? When to respond to which?”

She relaxes and inches slightly closer to my side. Her voice drops and I feel its effect move up and down my spine like electricity. “I don’t have to. My name is Shelia.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to…” I swallow hard and take another deep breath, praying it will calm my nerves. “I’m Erica.” Her hand moves over to my leg. The backs of her fingers resting on the side of my thigh. My gaze falls to her hand, the lump in my throat constricting all air. 

“You’ve never done this, have you?”

Turning my head back up to look up at her, I meet her open and gentle eyes. My eyes shift and flit about the room. I’m not timid. I don’t get riled. I don’t lose my cool. So what the hell is this? I’m no different than anyone else. Not at all apart from the men in my place. We have no room in our lives, no space, no time to give romantic entanglements. I can’t even recall the last time I had a free evening to schedule a date, much less anything requiring a commitment. 

This is illicit, it’s illegal, but it’s not unheard of, it’s not out of the norm. Except, it is for me, for any woman really. We don’t have desires, we don’t have unfulfilled longings. For a woman who doesn’t have time to date; celibacy isn’t a question, but an expectation.

“Erica?”

Rising from the fog inside my head, I meet her clear questioning gaze. “I have…I mean I’ve…”

“But, never like this?”

She sees right through and clips my rambling. I have been with women, not a lot, but a few. And they wanted more than I had to give. True, I’ve never done this specific thing. But, I’ve also never been with a woman who wanted nothing else from me, who demanded nothing of me. I’ve never done this, but I’m ready to do this.

***

Her slender fingers betray their strength as they dig into my thighs. “Just relax Erica. This isn’t going to be anything you don’t want or desire, okay?”

I bite down hard on my lip, as her nails scrape over my thighs, inching towards my hips. “Just relax, I’ll take care of you.” Her head drops and moist lips brush along the inside of my thigh. It’s enough to make me stiffen, the muscles in my abdomen clench. “Shh…relax.” Her voice is a whisper, a puff of breath against my heated skin. How in the world can I relax? Moving over the top of my thigh, her teeth nip along the curve of my hip. I close my eyes and lay my head back, drawing in a raged breath. Her hands cover my breasts, as she rises to her knees and presses me back onto the bed. 

She tweaks my nipples between her fingers, her tongue sliding over my stomach, leaving a wet trail that makes me nearly shiver as the cool air hits it. Covering her hands on my breasts, my hips involuntarily rise against her. Resisting the invitation she pulls my soft skin between her teeth and nips at me hard. I can’t help but cry out and grip her hands, attempting to ground myself. 

Pinching my nipples hard, and pulling a groan from the back of my throat she leans back onto her heels, trailing her lips across my pelvis. Her mouth isn’t light or subtle, but firm and insistent, sucking at my flesh as she moves. She tugs at my taut nipples, her hands moving beneath my own, as she settles her shoulders between my thighs, opening me up. The touch is nearly imperceptible. The very tip of her tongue swipes out to tease. My body feels as if is suspended just above the bed, drawn tight like a bow, just waiting to be released. 

So, she does, her tongue plunges forward, reeling my hips up towards her mouth. I gasp aloud and turn my head, my eyes flitting over the leather chair beside the wall, the watercolor print of the shore, waves lapping onto the sand. She fills me with a soft pink tongue, twisting and thrusting. Clenching my eyelids tight, I grip the bed clothes in my fists, and press my hips against her. Her face is in my sex; her cheeks soft on my inner thighs, her nose against my clit. 

She’s good, she’s skilled, I’ll give her that. It’s also been too long and I’m so wet I can hear every move she makes, every brush of her lips across me, her tongue thrusting in and out, every time she swallows. She moans and I feel the vibrations just inside me, pulling a ragged groan from my own throat. 

Kissing my wet lips, sliding her flat tongue over my entrance, her voice is muffled against me. “Mmm, you taste so good.” I roll my head, opening my eyes to the stark white ceiling. Releasing the bed clothes, I grab fistfuls of her soft hair, urging her for more. “You like this? What do you want? Erica, tell me what you want.”

I tell her in explicit detail where to swirl her tongue, how hard to flick my clit, how deep to press her fingers into me. She follows every direction, allowing me to tug and press her, and slide her face over my sex. Raising my left leg, and placing my foot flat on the bed. She accepts the opening and leans into me, pressing down on my thigh, laying me open even further. She nips at my clit, sucking hard, alternating flicks of her tongue with a careful swirl, keeping me just on the brink. Reading the reactions of my body she dances her mouth against and across me, knowing when to pull me back from that peak, when to press ahead and take me back up that ascent. I lay there, at her mercy, whimpering and writhing against her mouth, striving for what I need. 

She creates a current of desire that radiates out over my body. I raise my hands to my breasts, cupping them, feeling my hard nipples pressing into my palms. “Please…make me come.” No sooner do the words leave my mouth, than her lips are wrapped firmly around my clit, the tip of her tongue racing back and forth over the pulsating nub. She sucks harder, drinking me into her mouth. I stand posed on the edge of that cliff; waiting, dreaming, silently begging for the motion that will push me over. A flick of her tongue, a caress of her top lip, a twist of her fingers curled inside me. It all comes together in a crescendo of the sound of her mouth on me, the rush of blood against my eardrums, the tear of a moan from my throat. My orgasm is the suspension of a moment, crashing over me in a cold wave that makes me shudder and tremble; I rise against her, I fall through space. Her mouth grounds me, her tongue still lapping my pulsing sex; she forces me to feel the bed beneath my hips, the arch of my back digging my head into the mattress. I collapse, allowing that wave to pull the tension from my muscles as it retreats. 

I throw my right forearm over my eyes, my chest struggling with the heavy breaths. Carefully, I release her head from my grasp and rise up on my elbows, glancing over her shoulder at my clothes folded atop the dresser. She tilts her head to the side, breaking my gaze. Sliding the back of her hand slowly across her mouth and chin, her green eyes hold the smirk I can’t see on her lips. “Dr. Hahn, you paid for all night. Just lie back.”


End file.
